Driving Song
by Saiberia
Summary: Sarah comes home one night to find her parents' new home abandoned. 90s!AU featuring Cosima and Delphine.
1. At the New House

June 7th, 1995

1:15 AM

Sarah shuffled onto the front porch, dripping wet, carrying her luggage behind her and haphazardly shutting the door. She ran her fingers through her hair and shook it out, spraying water against the wooden boards of the porch floor as her leather jacket repelled a constant stream of water droplets; forcing them onto the floor. Heaving a great sigh she pulled herself upright, jumping slightly at the thunder that rumbled in a backdrop bassline against the crescendo of rain to lightning. Her weary limbs were, at the moment, not up to the idea of carrying her all-too-heavy luggage into the house and locating her room amidst the certain chaos that would greet her in her parents' new home, so she simply made a beeline for the door.

However, taped in the upper portion of the right window of the double door, was a white note, slightly crumpled by the author of the piece. It was harmless enough, figured Sarah, simply some directions to where the house keys were if the house was locked, or that there was pizza or something about how her sister was excited to see her, some bullshit like that.

But it wasn't.

_Dear Sarah,_

_I'm really sorry I can't be there to see you, but its impossible right now. _

_Please don't go digging around to find where I've gone. I really don't want /Mom and Dad/ _[promptly scratched out, and replaced with the following word] _anyone where I've gone. Trust me when I say its better this way. _

_We'll see each other again some day. Don't be worried._

_I love you._

_- Cos_

Sarah glared at the offending piece of paper, a sudden feeling of dread overtaking her as she angrily ripped the paper off the door and crumpled it up into a tight ball, stuffing it into her pocket as she began fiddling the handle.

Of course it was locked. It didn't look like there was anyone home, either, so she was on her own.

Not feeling the energy to make an attempt to break into the house, she searched the porch in hopes of finding a house key, and deciding that she'd probably end up sleeping on the porch if she didn't find one. She grumbled at the slightly sticky soda cans and mumbled "_Bloody hell, Cos'"_ under her breath as she kicked them to the side.

Just her luck it would be in the most obvious placed, and the place she'd check last.

After muddling around and checking under the bench and the chairs, and inside the potted plant, and even "_ugh, gross" _inside the soda cans, she opened the small cupboard.

"_I can't believe we still have this old thing." _Sarah mumbled to herself, picking up the mouthless, black button eyed little plastic monkey with glasses too large for its head and a gaudy red and green Christmas scarf wrapped around its neck. Somehow, the label $5.99 still hadn't fallen off after, "_What like, ten bloody years now, yeah?"_.

The key was right beneath it. It wasn't even hiding it. It was more like a half-hearted attempt at hiding and object.

"_Yeah, real subtle guys. Couldn't you have at least hidden it under the damn Christmas lights?" _she thought as she jammed the key violently into the door, fiddling around with it until it opened. She quickly shoved herself into the house, pulling off her sopping wet jacket and throwing it haphazardly on the floor, leaving it to pool a small puddle onto the floor. The lights flickered on automatically with her sudden presence, giving her a full view of the foyer.

"_I cannot believe they still have unpacked boxes." _Sarah thought to herself as she kicked a stray box labeled "Front Hall" out of the way. There was an invoice on the side desk next to the washroom in a manila folder. "_What's the point of keeping a single slip of paper in a bloody manila folder?" _Sarah thought as she scanned the invoice. "_Seriously, they've been here since bloody August and its been almost a bloody year, and they still have these bloody boxes everywhere." _She flipped the folder closed. So much had changed within the year she had been gone. And, Cosima…

She shook her head and gave herself a light slap, heading into the washroom to wash her face off. "_She's probably fine. Cos' knows how to handle herself." _She thought to herself, almost a mantra created for self-comfort, wiping her her face off with the sleeve of her shirt. The downstairs washroom lacked a towel, but was supplied with a shitty writing mag dated a few months ago. "_Of course dad would have some shit like this. Would he get mad if I used it as a towel?" _she smirked to herself.

"_Bloody Cos' is gonna make me stay up all night lookin' for what happened to her, isn't she." _A pair of trophies, with the stupid name _Alison Duncan _engraved on them. The good child. Alison. The perfect one. Oddly, the one who was always on ends with their mother, but that didn't matter much now. The centrepiece of the bookshelf was a neon colored figure of the Eiffel Tower. The vibrant blue and neon green topped with pink was glaringly shouting at her to stare at it. "_That's definitely Cosima's. I cannot even imagine Alison getting something like this." _Sarah snickered, pulling open a drawer to the right and promptly ignoring the obviously displayed Holy Bible in the shelf.

"_Jesus bloody Christ, tone it down with the obnoxious suburban mom, will you?" _Sarah plucked a note from the drawer, written on pink and violet floral paper, in eloquently written floral.

_Dear Aynsley,_

_It's so good to hear from you again! All this new house business sounds like quite the adventure! Remember the little dorm room we shared, freshman year? When we were miserable, fantasizing about our dream homes? I always said I wanted a cozy little suburban home, something simple, not too extravagant, I set some low bars…_

_And now look who got herself a mansion in the woods! Somebody up there likes you! I could use some of that magic. Send me some Lotto numbers, I'll play them! Seriously._

_But I shouldn't be complaining about this nice split-level we've had since Bob got transferred to the Bay Area. We just got new vinyl siding. Jealous yet? Let me know if you want to trade places… _

_So how are the girls? I heard Alison got herself a scholarship to a university in the big city. Good for her! And Sarah? Off on some grand European tour, I hear? Speaking of jealous… _

_Write back soon!_

_I miss you, roomie!_

_- Chastity_

"_Man, I remember this 'burb bitch from back when we lived in that crummy little place. What a nosey twat she was." _Sarah scoffed and slammed the drawer shut, crumpling the note and tossing it behind her back. She reached for the door handle leading into the left hall, fiddling with the handle as it seemed jammed. After a few seconds she gave up and realized it was locked. "_Who locks the HALLS? I think they've finally lost it." _

The closet was bare. Filled with a theatre jacket, some stupid Berkeley High School jacket, with a dolphin mascot, and a board game. _Arkham Horror. "Yeah, this is Cos'. She always loved that Lovegood bullshit. Loveless? Lovenot? Whatever." _

A lone card was tucked away behind a drawer next to the front door. A gaudy yellow card with a cocker spaniel wearing sunglasses on the front, titled '_Have a DOGGONE cool 17th birthday! - Uncle Donnie'. _Sarah pulled open the top drawer and tossed the card in, noticing a slip of paper with rough directions. "_Looks like mom's route to the theatre for work." _Sarah noted, glancing them over before moving on.

"_I'll just look around before I go to bed." _Sarah noted as she looked at a worldwide timetable. _Sarah's departure; 7/6/94 Fight 881 12:10 to London_. It was from last year. Why they would keep it around, especially in a new house, she had no clue.

More interestingly enough, there were three recorded messages on the answering machine, all recent, next to a scrawled note that looked fairly old.

_Cos -_

_Scott from the old neighborhood called. He wants to come back to see the new house. Call him back._

Sarah snorted. She remembered Scott. A socially awkward boy with a dorky smile and a pair of thin-rimmed wire glasses. He was cool enough. You know, for a total virgin loser dork.

_Mom! Scott is a TOTAL WEIRDO. The only reason I ever hung out with him in the first place is he had a Nintendo when he was little. _

"_Good old Cos'. Always straight to the point." _Sarah smirked. She missed the little dork. With her thick rimmed glasses and loose ponytail. She clicked the answering machine, listening to whatever popped up. She assumed they were all by her, probably. Maybe.

"Cosima? Cosima? Cosiiiiimaaaaaa… Cosima! Hello? … Cosimaaaaaa!" a voice rang out. A foreigner. The French accent was glaringly obvious, and her pronunciation of Cosima's name was… Unique. She put emphasis on the 'i' rather than the 'o'. It sounded… Right, when the voice said her name. The machine beeped, declaring the end of that message.

"Cosima? S'il te plaît… Où es-tu? J'ai besoin te parler…" the voice was shaken, almost hysterical. Despite having stayed in France, Sarah didn't know a lick of it. "Please be there…" the message ended with. "_What the hell, Cos'?" _Sarah stared at the offending machine, the little green 3 flickering in and out of existence.

"Yeah, uh, hey mum. So I've got my ticket home and its pretty late and all, so you don't have to go pick me up. I'll figure out someway to get home, yeah? Fee said he'd probably be available, but I'll probably be home late and all that." Sarah looked down at the machine, currently reciting the last message she had left. She immediately cleared the machine of all its messages, wiping it clean of whatever incriminating evidence had been left on it.

Wherever Cosima had gone, she obviously didn't want to be followed.

And so Sarah vowed to get rid of all evidence she found.

* * *

><p><em>August 20th, 1994<br>_

_Dear Sarah,_

_You know its been kinda hard since you left. Ever since Alison kinda, y'know, took off to university. Something has been going on between her and mom too. I don't know what it is because I know if I'll ask they'll probably both bite my head off. You know how it is with them._

_So basically I'm just in this big old house with just mom and dad. I think I'm gonna keep this journal to make a tally of how long it takes me to go completely insane. I wish I could vent to you. But I have to make due with this journal, so I'll just pretend its you._

_And it'll be just like talking to you._

_Right? There must be some sort of psychological benefit to writing "Dear [insert name here]" into a journal or diary. Like pseudo-therapy? Or or or… Like some kind of way to trick yourself into thinking you'll actually read these, you'll actually get these, you'll actually find them… _

_Sorry, I got kind of off track._

_A-Anyway! New house. We've been here for like a couple weeks so far. Since August first? Maybe. Something like that. We still haven't unpacked all the boxes. I feel like some of them are just gonna hang around, perpetually filled to the brim of random bullshit. _

_I guess its nice to move though. You know I never had any friends, really. Alison was like, the social butterfly. And you had all these cool friends like Felix and Tony, and that guy Art. He was cool. Instead I had Scott, who probably only latched onto me because we were both neighbors, and both had no friends. _

_I guess its just the way it is. _

_At least I have my books. And like, X-Files and all that._


	2. First Day of School

Sarah glanced up at the framed painting of her family. Cosima was on the far left, smiling awkwardly in a red flannel button up. Sarah herself was in the back with Alison, a stark contrast to each other. The 'wild one' and the 'perfect one'. Sarah snorted to herself. Their parents were in the front, looking dull as ever. Their parents were okay, as far as parents were, they were just… a little boring. Whatever they were doing out, it was probably some boring anniversary trip or something.

"_Cosima was always the interesting one." _Sarah thought to herself as she made her way into the left wing of the mansion. A closet door was slightly ajar, so she allowed herself in, clicking on the light and glancing down at the backpack that was stuffed in the corner; atop even more unpacked boxes. "_Seriously, they need to get on this." _

She looked down at the hunter green backpack, taking note of the little button with the name 'Heavens to Betsy' on it, coupled with an anatomical drawing of a heart. "_Since when was Cos' into that scene?" _she thought to herself as she pulled out a stray piece of paper from the backpack.

_Welcome, new student!_

_We hope that you are as excited about your first day at Berkeley High School as we are! _

_Please be sure to bring the following with you on your first day of classes, so that you can get right into the swing of things._

_- One sturdy folder, with pockets, for each of you six class periods_

_- One lined notebook per period, or one large notebook with six divided sections_

_- At least six pens (blue or black ink) and six pencils_

_- One box of colored pencils_

_- A standard combination lock for your assigned locker_

_- A nutritious lunch, or $2.50 for a lunch provided by the school cafeteria_

_- A positive attitude!_

_Please remember to get plenty of sleep the night before and be ready for the first bell to ring at 8:00 AM. _

_See you soon, and, again, welcome_

_Beth Valence, Principal_

"_She didn't cross off the attitude. Sounds about right." _Sarah placed the note back into the backpack. "_I hate it when schools pulled bullshit like that. Guess Cos' isn't a huge fan of it either." _

Sarah pulled back and looked at a long table in the hall. Various papers, along with a postcard of the Eiffel Tower were strewn about. "_Hey, its one of those postcards I sent. I still can't believe that the only catch for an expenses paid trip to Europe was sending postcards once in a while. Bloody good deal. Thanks, dad." _Sarah flipped the postcard over, skimming over what she had written months ago.

_Hey uh, mum and dad and Cosima. And Alison maybe? Is she even there anymore? I have no bloody idea. _

_Paris is cool, I guess. I'm pretty sure I'm sick of croissants at this point. I've heard that the French stole croissants from Austria anyway. I did take a bunch of photos though, I thought Cos might like 'em._

_Speaking of, I got you some books, you big geek. _

_Hope you guys don't miss me too much,_

_- Sarah_

"_Guess I'll have to wait to give her those books, then." _Sarah sighed, pulling the drawer open to rummage around in. "_Hmm, playing cards. Not like we don't already have five bloody hundred of these." _The bright red Akechi playing cards were the definition of generic, with the offending red flower stenciled on to the front. She picked up an obituary next to it, briefly noting the unfamiliar face on the front.

**OBITUARIES**

Ethan "Doc" Duncan

_Ethan Duncan, 75, of Nevada County, died peacefully last month in his home._

_Mr. Duncan was born on September 8th, 1933, in the house that would be his home for the rest of his life. He attained his degree in Pharmacy at a young age, and returned to Nevada County to practice. He quickly became a well-loved figure at the centre of the community. _

_In the decades preceding his passing, he was seldom seen outside his home. _

_A service will be held this Sunday at the First Methodist Church at 1:00 PM. All are welcome. _

_His survivors include his nephew, Chadwick Duncan, as well as, in spirit, the people of Nevada County, to whom he provided wellness and comfort. _

"_Right. The guy we inherited the house from." _Sarah placed the obituary back into the drawer and nodded. "_Rest in peace you old coot, or whatever." _She rummaged around the drawer for a little while longer, going through post-its and scraps of paper, but the most interesting thing she had found was a photograph.

Sarah picked up the photo and held it to the light. It was a girl. Her hair was impeccably curly, and extremely golden, and she had a very… telegenic smile. The army uniformed that hugged her body suited her, despite her obvious femininity, but…

"_Cormier, huh?" _Sarah took note of the nametag and folded the photograph to shove into her pocket. "_Well, I'll be keeping tabs on you." _she noted, moving along the hall and heading into the first door on her right.

It was an office. Books and papers littered the area, and highlighters were strewn about the office desk. There was a typewriter with a partially written piece of paper stuck into it on the desk. Sarah clicked on the light and plucked the paper out, skimming it over.

_Pioneer Elite U-33 Stage 1 Set Compact Dumbbells; wt. Range; 3-21. Replaces: 32  
>MSRP: $179.00<br>Hexagonal heads; rippled grip, form-fits to hand, evenly distributed weight, grey iron material, size; (width x height); inches; 7x7; length at 25lbs 10x10; length at full weight 12.25inches, $2.29 per pound; $901.38_

_They say that a jack of all traits is a master of none. I have to disagree. Mastery is not a specialization, but sureness of purpose and dedication to craft. If you happen to be in the market for a new pair of compact dumbbells, you'll be glad to know that the Pioneer Elite shows this particular_

Sarah raised her eyebrows at the piece. "_Way to be overdramatic, dad." _She thought, glancing up at the bulletin board hanging above the desk. Various post-its like '_You can __**do**__better_' were tacked up, as well as various notes about identity theft. "_Oh yeah, dad's book are about a guy who steals JFK's identity after he dies. Some shit about time travel and … galactic things? Bloody hell, I don't even remember." _Sarah picked up a crumpled up ball of paper from the floor and flattened it out.

_Paul Dierden opened his eyes and saw them: the stars. Twinkling as if he were lying on the grass in his family's yard in Canada, even though that place was a million miles away. No, he blinked the sleep from his eyes looking through the carbon-reinforced safety glass of the military station Castor. Yes, he was a long way from home, but the future needed him. _[page 1]

_Paul Dierden's head swam. He felt incredibly drunk, despite not having touched a drop in hours. He vomited onto his feet. XXXXXXXXX processing his sick-flecked toenails, scanning up his bare shins, bare knees… XX he was completely naked. He looked up and met the eyes of a gorgeous brunette woman wearing a tight polymer-fiber tuXnic. TheX fabric that strained at the seams to contain her generous bosom was emblazoned with the phrase "MATTER TRANSFERENCE OPERATOR.' Thwn he passed out. _[page 2]

_/ Paul Dierden had crosssed the gap. The gap in time. Only messages had passed beofre, but now, am man. They need him, now more than ever. Changing the past was no longer good enough. The instructions form the Council had been clear, what to procure, what to contsturct from it, how to assemlbe it, so he made the machine, how to transport him bodily across time. And now he  
>stood, there on the bridge of the military staiton Castor, comma nd of the military, because only he, who had saved the predisnet's life twice befor,e could helm the nieve army to their destiny, the fate of the world <em>[page 3]

Sarah crumpled the papers up again, tossing it directly into the garbage bin this time. "_No wonder it was crumpled. Dad's bloody rubbish at writing. I mean, I know he was something… But that…" _She absentmindedly pulled open a desk drawer as she muttered to herself, looking into a 3-ring binder that neatly held some papers of no real use. As she shoved the binder back into the drawer, the bottom jiggled a bit, revealing a yellow corner of paper underneath. "_What's this then?" _Sarah fiddled around, pulling the false bottom up and finding a dirty, yellowing envelope.

_10050 Bridge St  
>Nevada County, Cali.<br>_ _96161_

_Chadwick Duncan  
>745 Brazil Avenue<br>San Francisco, CA  
><em> _94112_

Sarah flipped open the envelope, gently inching out the letter inside.

_August 10, 1972_

_Dear Chadwick,_

_I write on what I hope and imagine a joyous occasion. News reaches me that you are newly married to a wonderful young woman. I have had more than a little time to consider my past and my family, and my thoughts have often lingered on your development and welfare in the ten years since we last met. Your marriage gives me much reassurance in this regard. _

_You are always welcome in Tahoe, I will understand, of course, if you find you cannot accept this invitation. _

_Yours very sincerely, _

_Ethan Duncan._

It took Sarah a little while to figure out what some of the words said, due to the eloquently written red cursive. Not to mention there was a hole in the bottom portion of the letter, and so she had to make her own assumptions about what the letter said. "_Well that's weird. A little too cryptic for me." _Sarah grumbled, gently hiding the letter back underneath the false bottom and placing the folder back.

Aside from the strange letter, there wasn't much else of interest in the room. There was a book on the JFK killing, "_Dad's a bit obsessed with this, ain't he?", _and a metal filing cabinet that was locked with a combination. Sarah had attempted to crack the code a few times, but ultimately failed. She did, however, find an empty bottle of Hamaran Irish Whiskey No.9, triple distilled and filled into a 70cl bottle. "_Explains the drunken bullshit of a story I found crumpled on the ground." _There was an electrical form, however, that did explain some of the creepy flickering that went on randomly in the house. Of course, half of that could've been the storm, but it did alleviate some anxiety.

_Electrical Inspection Form_

_**Name of Insured/Applicant: **__Chadwick Duncan_

_**Property Address: **__Tahoe Forest__  
><em> _Nevada County, CA 96161_

_**Policy/Binder Number: **__0094-12A-A_

_Does the entire electrical system meet local codes?_ _[X] Yes_ _[ ] No  
>Are there any deficiencies that need correcting?<em> _[ ] Yes_ _[ ] No (unclear)  
>If yes, describe in detail: <em>_Wiring in house is technically up to safety and amperage requirements, however multiple layers of wiring have been added into structure over the last 100 years. System is frequently unpredictable. Lights blink out for no clear reason. Pressure on floorboards and doorframes disrupts circuits wired directly behind the surface. Properly reworking the electrical system would be highly destructive to the walls, floor, and fixtures of the structure. After discussion with Mr. Duncan since there are no current safety concerns, issues will not be addressed.__  
><em>_**Required Information **__(please print)  
>Company Name: <em>_Dandelion Electrical Co.__  
>License Number: <em>_598941__  
>Electrician Name: <em>_Tomas Pesci__  
>I hereby certify that at the time of this survey the electrical service at this location is safe and adequate or I have noted said deficiencies above. <em>

_Signature: __Tomas Pesci_ _Date of Inspection: __9/2/94_

_(Please note all information must be verifiable.)_

"_Bloody hell. Well, forget that, it may as well be some ghost bullshit." _Sarah grumbled, crumpling up the invoice and tossing it over her shoulder nonchalantly. She shrugged and stared at the back of the room; another door slightly open and leading into a darker part. "_Seriously, mansions are unnecessarily large." _She thought, opening the door up and flicking the lights on.

It was a library.

A library filled with rows and rows of dreary and obnoxiously boring books, of course. "_I bet Cos' spent most of her time in here." _She glanced around the room, occasionally pulling out a few books to peek at them, but eventually yawning due to the sheer blandness of the material. However, she did find a sitting area with two chairs by a window, and a piece of paper beneath a thickly folded newspaper.

_The Accidental  
><em> _Patriarch  
><em> _Villain  
><em> _Ambassador  
><em> _Messiah_

_The Occasional  
><em> _Sometime__  
><em> _Unreliable _ _Savior__  
><em> _Hero__  
><em>_A Year on the Mountain  
>Come Down From the Mountain<br>__  
>The Accidental Prophet<br>_ _?  
><em>_The Unreliable Prophecy_

_The Accidental Prophet. . . _

"_Just a bunch of stuff from dad, I guess. He's obsessed with that book series. Didn't it flop, anyway?" _Sarah pondered the thought as she absentmindedly flipped through a magazine titled "FRESH". "'_I was a teenage drag queen'? What kinda story is that? Sounds like Fee." _she snickered to herself, flipping through various articles titled 'Does Anybody Still Care?' or 'The Male Gaze: How to Subvert It'. "_Is this Cos'? I can't imagine mum or dad reading something like this." _She flipped the magazine back down onto the table and shrugged, aimlessly wandering around the library with no set point.

There was an interesting box though, filled to the brim with copies of her father's second book titled '_The Accidental Pariah'_, and beneath it was a Gentleman magazine, with various headlines such as "Big Boob Blowies" and other distasteful pieces of subject matter. Sarah flipped through the magazine, smirking to herself as she got to a page with giant red writing saying "WHAT THE HELL, DAD" over a naked woman. "_Probably Alison. Cos wouldn't care enough to go out of her way to do this. Bloody hell, what a trainwreck this family is." _she thought, stuffing the magazine and books back into the shoddy cardboard and shoving it into the recesses of the undertable.

The only actual book, besides her father's trashy dime novel science fiction book, was a book titled '_A Strange Under My Roof: The #1 Best-Selling Advice Book For Parents of Teens!' _by Anita Bowers. "_Awww no… Don't tell me they pulled this shit on Cos. Unbelieveable." _Sarah groaned as she flipped the book over.

_THE TEEN YEARS are fraught with changes of all types: physical, mental, emotional, spiritual. But these changes don't just affect your teen! Your teen's turbulent years are a challenge for parents as well - maybe the biggest challenge you've yet faced since having children!_

_This book holds insights into your teens behavior - from the very beginning, as he or she first enters adolescence, up through the end of the teen years as he or she enters young adulthood. _

_The practical strategies here are based on well-tested principles of pediatric psychology, presented by Dr. Anita Bowers - herself a mother of two teenagers. Prepare to gain new tools for establishing a productive, healthy, and loving dialogue with the stranger under your roof!_

"_I've never had such a good conversation with my daughter!" - Janis Beckwith, The Atlantic_

"_These simple tools can make all the difference to a relationship with your child." - Gavin Hardcastle, Northwest Review of Books_

Sarah rolled her eyes at the book, placing it back on the bookshelf. She was just about to leave the library, more annoyed than before at how her parents seemed to be reacting to her little sister. "_They never reacted to me or Alison like that. What the hell?" _

She was about to leave when her stomping off caused a manila folder to slide off the shelf. The number '0451' was scrawled in thick sharpie on the side, and a typed letter slipped out of the folder itself and onto the floor. Sarah picked it up and slid down against the shelf and sat on the floor as she read.

_Nov 1, 1994_

_Dear Chadwick,_

_Olivier asked me to write you regarding the reviews you've been submitting the last few months. Frankly they're becoming more trouble than they're worth from an editing standpoint. There's a word limit- it's your job to stay under it, not mine to cut under it. Even then it's becoming harder and harder to weed out the tangents and non sequiturs from the usable copy without heavy rewrites. The readers of Home Workout Aficionado want to hear about the quality and value of the fitness equipment, not ruminations on your childhood!_

_If it were up to me I wouldn't be writing this letter. I'd just be cutting you loose. There's tons of guys half your age who would take half your rate to write stuff I could actually use. But Olivier's known you for a long time, and he's the boss, so I'm giving you one more shot on his say-so. You should write him a nice note thanking him for his patience and generosity. _

_Look through your old stuff and start submitting reviews like that again. Then everybody will be happy._

_Mark Rollins  
>Reviews Editor, Home Workout Aficionado Magazine<em>

"_Wow. What a bloody asshole. No wonder dad started drinking and writing more shitty novels." _Sarah grumbled, debating whether or not she should tear up the note, but deciding against it to save her father some face. He probably wouldn't want anyone to know that he had received that letter. "_Doesn't look like anybody comes in here besides dad, anyway. Looks like I was wrong about Cos hanging around here. Doubt Alison came here much after she found that magazine." _Sarah glanced at the number in the folder again. "_That's probably for that filing cabinet."_

It _was _for the filing cabinet.

Back in her father's office, she put in the code 0451 and shouted a triumphant _a-ha! _when it clicked open. It was all empty aside from a single manila folder filled with some fairly yellowed pieces of paper.

_ROSEN AND RIGGS  
>Attorneys at Law<br>40200 Truckee Airport Road, Ste 1  
>Nevada County, CA<em>

_Dear Mr. Duncan,_

_Please find enclosed your original document, and a typed copy for your records. The notarized copy has been filed at our offices. Thank you for entrusting our firm with this important matter._

_Sincerely, _

_Daniel Rosen  
>Rosen and Riggs, Attorneys at Law<em>

"_What the hell? Is this dad's? I never heard of any of this. Is he in some kind of legal bind?" _Sarah's eyebrows furrowed as she flipped to the next page.

_Will and Testament_

_I, Ethan Duncan, possessing full competence of mind and memory, and after full survey of valued items to my name, do hereby declare this document my last will and testament._

_The following shall hold true upon my passing:  
><em> _1. I declare that I am a lifelong resident of Nevada County; that I am unmarried and have no children.  
><em> _2. I declare that I have no outstanding debts to my name, to any creditors living or dead.  
><em> _3. I do hereby bequeath every item of value of which I may die possessed, including the dwelling and surrounding acres located at Tahoe Forest, as well as any and all personal property and monied accounts, to my nephew, Chadwick Duncan, Jr., of San Francisco County._

_In the event that said Chadwick Duncan, Jr. should predecease me, then and in such event, the bequest to him shall fall and the same is bequeathed to his children as ordered by age and competence as stewards of the estate._

_I subscribe my name to this will this 13 day of August, 1973. (signed, Ethan Duncan)_

"_So this wasn't dad's…" _Sarah flipped to the next page, simply eyeing the original copy of the will, written in the same eloquent cursive as the letter was. "_1973? Didn't he die years later? That's a pretty early start on a last will and testament. This is bloody fishy if you ask me." _Sarah slid the will back into the filing cabinet and relocked it, making sure that nobody knew she had taken a peek.

* * *

><p><em>September 6, 1994<em>

_Oh my god. You are so lucky you finished high school before we moved into this house. _

_I totally thought it was gonna be like, a totally normal day at high school. Y'know, I go in, nobody notices the dorky four eyes in the back, I get essentially snubbed and ignored as the new kid in the school full of Generic Erics and Lousy Lisa's, you know the drill. But no. _

_So it's the first day of school, and there I am, introducing myself to the class, and I say that I just moved into the house on the outskirts of Tahoe Forest. All of a sudden EVERY kid in the room turns and just STARES like I suddenly transformed into a mutant. I just stood there, wishing pretty hard for a rewind button. Because now maybe nobody knows my name, but they all know who I am:_

"_The Psycho House Girl."_

_Great._

_Needless to say, it was a pretty lonely lunch period. A couple of people kinda glanced over at me and walked in my direction, maybe to make sure I wasn't some kinda freak. But I just gave them a dirty look and they went on there way. _

_Should I even care, though? I mean like, you totally taught me to never care what anybody thinks and all that, but at the same time, Alison taught me that I __**should **__care. So what is it, Sarah? Should I care? Or should I not care? I guess since I'm writing these letters to __**you **__that I should probably take your advice, but I'm not so sure… Not caring seems kinda lonely sometimes, don't you think? And I can't really help but care. I mean…_

_I guess a friend wouldn't be so bad. Someone to be an outcast with._


End file.
